Milestone
by One Small Monkey
Summary: Has it been FIFTEEN years since I first watched the Turtles cartoon? This got me thinking where would they be, roughly fifteen years on?
1. Chapter 1

One good thing about being a mutant, thought Michelangelo idly. Never any trouble getting a seat on the subway.

Michelangelo sat, legs swinging, occasionally humming along with the song on his Walkman. Since Tuesday was one of his days off from the restaurant, Splinter had called him last night to see if he could come lend a hand this afternoon. The gallery wanted to schedule another exhibition for his paintings sometime this summer, and wanted to see what Splinter had finished up so far. Michelangelo had agreed right away. After all, it'd been a couple weeks since he'd seen Splinter, and months since he'd seen anyone at the gallery, which was once almost a second home to him.

Still ensconced in his own little rock-n-roll world, Michelangelo stepped off the subway at the proper stop, walked through the station, and up the steps. He blinked a bit at the bright sunshine before making his way down the street. Opening the small gate out front, he walked the few steps up to the door of Splinter's apartment building, then let himself in with his key. Splinter wasn't helpless by any means, but at the same time, Michelangelo didn't want to make him go to the front of his apartment just to buzz him in.

As he rode the elevator up, he thought back to when he and his brothers had helped Splinter move into this building. Mr Samuels had willed his house to Splinter, but Splinter was adamant that the house revert back to the Samuels family, even though they showed no real interest in living there. (They did show an interest in the money they could make selling it, remembered Michelangelo.) Splinter and the turtles by this point had begun making their way in the human world - all of them out of school and starting their careers - and no longer needed the luxury of a rent-free home. And at that point, only Splinter and Leonardo were living there in any case. Leonardo quickly found a place near the school where he was student teaching, and soon after, Splinter found a very small but well-kept place. All four had taken the weekend off to help Splinter move in, which was certainly overkill - Splinter didn't have very many possessions. But all of them still felt a slight sense of abandonment. Suddenly, they couldn't just spend the night with Splinter if they wanted to. It was sort of the last push out of the nest - the time they realized that they were truly on their own.

Michelangelo opened Splinter's front door with his key. "Sensei?" he called. "It's Mikey!" He closed the door and paused, but didn't hear anything. Strange, thought Michelangelo. Maybe he's gone out. But then he spied Splinter's walking stick next to the door. Hm, apparently not. "Sensei?" Moving into the apartment, he glanced around at the impeccably-kept living room. Wish I could keep my place this neat, he though absently. He moved back towards the bedroom, and peeked in the open door. He saw Splinter under the covers of the futon, which made him frown. Why would Splinter be asleep at three in the afternoon?

"Sensei?" said Michelangelo, softly.

* * *

"You set?" asked Donatello. Natasha nodded, so Donatello knocked on the door. Once he heard the expected "come in", Donatello opened the door, and let Natasha lead him into the office.

Mr Santiago smiled as the two entered. "Ah, yes," he said. "So? How's the project looking?"

Donatello gave him a lopsided smile. "Promising."

"You know I don't like that word," said Mr Santiago, smiling in spite of himself.

"It's accurate, though."

Natasha, Donatello's new assistant, nodded excitedly. "Actually, the testing's going really well so far. We're getting a complete data transfer in just over five minutes. And that's the large capacity."

"Excellent. So where are you having problems?"

"Data loss," said Donatello simply. "We've losing about one half of one percent of the download when the device is moved about ten feet away." As an afterthought, he added, "That's also with a couple obstacles in between..."

"Just half a percent? That's actually really good," said Mr Santiago, who wasn't expecting this kind of result so quickly.

Donatello shook his head. "Not good enough. First off, we can't tell people that it only works if they get it right up next to their computers. It'll be a much better selling point if we can say they just need to get it within six feet or so. And secondly, people aren't going to accept any data loss at all. How'd you feel if I lopped off a few entries on your spreadsheet, or the last paragraph of your favorite book?"

"Understood." Mr Santiago sat back in his chair and considered. He wanted this item in the stores immediately, before their competitors came out with something similar, but he knew that putting out an inferior product would be fatal. "How are you compensating?"

"We're trying a few things," Donatello said. "I've got Natasha working on a error corrector - something that'll look for missing data and retrieve it if it notices any. Only problem is, that'll probably double the time it takes to complete the transfer. So I'm working on upping the transfer speed some more."

"Upping the transfer speed? I thought you had it transfering as fast as it could."

"That was last month," Donatello said, then grinned. "I've had a couple ideas since then."

Mr Santiago smiled back. "And you're the go-to guy when it comes to ideas. All right. Get back on it." As Donatello and Natasha turned to go, he added, "Oh, and great job, by the way."

"Thanks," said Donatello, slapping the door frame slightly.

"Yeah, thanks," added Natasha.

They started back down the hall to the elevator, and Donatello noticed a particular spring in Natasha's step. "See?" he said. "No problem."

Natasha grinned. "I can't believe it! He was really happy!"

"You didn't think he would be?"

"Well, I was kinda worried that it wasn't all done yet..."

They reached the elevator lobby, and Donatello pressed the down button. "Don't be. Mr Santiago's cool. He's worked in R&D before, so he doesn't expect miracles. Just be honest, and don't get his hopes up too high. He'd rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointed."

"Got it." Natasha and Donatello stepped onto the elevator and pressed the "B" key. As they made their way down, Natasha added, "You know, Mr Hamato..."

"Now, I told you before. No Mr Hamato-ing me," said Donatello with a small smile.

"Sorry. Donatello. To be honest, I was kinda worried about this assignment."

Donatello deadpanned, "What - you never had to work for a five-foot turtle before?"

"No!" said Natasha quickly. "No, that's not what I meant!"

Donatello's smile returned. "I know, Natasha - I was just playing."

"Oh. Sorry." Natasha tried to regain her composure. "I was just gonna say that I was worried that this job would be a complete bore, and...well, I didn't know what to expect from you. I've..."

"...never worked for a five-foot turtle. No, that's cool." Donatello held up his hand to quiet Natasha's protest. "I know what you mean. I'm just happy you're comfortable working with me now."

"Oh yeah. More than comfortable. You even let me pick out what music to listen to a lot of the time."

"Yeah, well, my brothers got me used to pretty much any kind of music. From classical to thrash."

"It's just such a great job." The doors opened, and they stepped out into their research space.

"Yeah, it's hard to believe we're getting paid for this."

"And so well!" added Natasha, and they both laughed.

A quiet chirping interrupted them. Donatello grabbed his cel phone and smiled slightly when he saw Michelangelo's name in the display. He flipped the phone open and held it to his ear. "Hey, Mikey. What's up?"

* * *

Raphael blew his whistle, bringing all the players to a halt, and all their eyes onto him. Raphael pointed at the one with the ball. "Charging," he said simply.

The kid threw his head back towards the high ceiling of the gym. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"C'mon, you threw an elbow to his chest," argued Raphael, nodding towards a defender wearing a blue tank top.

"They'd never call that in the NBA!"

"Take a look around, Donald." Raphael spun his finger around, indicating the rundown building they were playing in. "This ain't Madison Square Garden." Donald growled and slammed the ball down, hard. Raphael snapped his fingers and pointed to the sidelines. "All right, Donald - time out." Pointing to someone else on the sideline, Raphael added, "Marcus, take his place. Blue possession."

As the game resumed, Raphael headed off the court to where Donald had stomped off. He stood stock still, arms crossed, glaring. Looking up at the tall fifteen-year-old, Raphael said quietly, "Donald, you've got to learn to keep it under control."

"That wasn't charging!"

"Donald, listen," Raphael continued in the same quiet voice. "First off, it was charging." Donald started to argue, but Raphael held up his hand. "No arguing. And secondly, it doesn't matter. I might have missed it. You know refs screw up calls all the time. It happens. Too bad. You got to be ready to have some breaks go against you." Raphael waited to let that sink in, but he wasn't sure it had - Donald just kept glaring at him. Finally, Raphael said, "Listen. You're gonna have to work at letting some of this stuff go."

Donald sighed and looked down at his shoes. "It's tough," he mumbled.

"I know. I been there." Donald looked up, somewhat surprised, and Raphael gave him a crooked smile. "I'd tell ya about it, but it's one of those when-I-was-your-age stories, and I'm guessing you'd rather get back in the game than hear it." Donald nodded, smiling a bit back, and Raphael said, "OK. Remind me to bore you to death with that story later. Get ready to sub back in."

"'K. Thanks."

"Raphael!" Raphael spun around, and saw Brenda, who ran the youth center, waving to him from across the gym. "Your brother's on the phone. He says it's urgent."

* * *

Leonardo was trying to get on top of the state-mandated paperwork when he heard a knock on his office door. As usual, he didn't know whether he was happy or upset at the intrution. "Come on," he said. The door opened, and a head peeked in. Surprised, Leonardo said, "Alex?"

"Hi, Mr Hamato," said Alex. "Um, you said you'd be around after school..."

"Right. Come on in." Alex made his way into the small office, and took the seat across from Leonardo. "It's just...well, to be honest, Alex, I wasn't really expecting you."

"Yeah, well, I don't have a lot of time right now, but I thought I should talk to you for a bit. You know, 'bout..." Alex's voice trailed away.

Leonardo tried to cast his mind back to the geography he had been teaching. He was actually an English teacher by trade, but when it came to summer school, teachers pretty much got whatever courses they were assigned. "You're still having trouble with everything?"

Alex put his books down on the desk and made a vague gesture towards them. "Everything's just a bunch of names. They don't mean anything!"

Smiling sympathetically, Leonardo said, "I know how you feel. But actually, they do all mean something. I just don't have time to give you the back story."

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." Leonardo paused to think for a second. "Say you live up on 88th. There's a lot of cool stuff there, right? The shops, the restaurants and all that?"

"Yeah..."

"But if you look at a map, it won't show you all of that. It'll just show a line that says '88th'. They won't have room to put anything else."

"Hm."

Leonardo reached behind him to his neatly-arranged bookshelves and grabbed an atlas. He thumbed through it until he found the map of Japan. He lay the atlas down towards Alex, pointed to a spot, and pretended not to see him flinch a bit at seeing the large stubby green finger so close. "See this island?"

"Yeah..."

"What can you tell me about it?"

"Um...it's called Okinawa. And it's in Japan."

"And that's about it, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"I've been there once. It's one of the nicest places on earth. Beautiful beaches, and some of the best people I've ever met. But you'd never know it from this map." Leonardo tapped the map for emphasis. "All the map can do is show you the basics. What's where. Cities, countries, rivers and mountains. That's about all they have room for."

Both of them leapt a bit as the phone on Leonardo's desk began ringing. During the second ring, Leonardo leaned over and turned the ringer off.

"Um, aren't you gonna answer it?"

Leonardo shook his head and smiled a bit. "They can leave a message. I'm busy." He pointed to the map again. "Geography class is a lot like a map, actually. All I can give you the bare bones, the absolute basics. Sort of a basic structure to build on. So when you hear about something happening in Copenhagen on the news, or you meet somebody from the Rhine Valley, you'll at least know where these places are. And you'll be building on these basics that you learn here in class." Leonardo paused. Alex seemed to understand, but he didn't look entirely convinced. Leonardo leaned a bit closer. "Of course, there's another, secret reason for this class..."

"Besides to make me miss my summer?" Alex said ruefully.

"Nah, that's just a bonus," Leonardo said, grinning. Then he paused and thought again. "You're on the football team, right?"

"Yeah..."

"The coach makes you run drills, right? Running through tires, slamming into dummies, stuff like that?"

"'f course. So what?"

"So why do you do that? There's never any tires on the field during the game."

Alex looked at Leonardo like he'd lost his mind. "It's practice! Drills! You know. So during the game, we know how to step high 'n' stuff."

Leonardo patted Alex's textbook. "Same idea, Alex."

"Huh?"

"As you get older, get a job, all that, guess what? You're gonna need to memorize lists, organize things. You know, make it all make sense. So we get you kids to run drills. Get you to memorize the countries in Europe." Again, Leonardo tapped the textbook. "This here's a tire drill for your brain."

Alex stared at his textbook for a second, then slumped back in his chair. "OK, fine. But that still doesn't make this any easier."

"I hear you. Tell you what. You free tomorrow after school?"

Alex thought. "Nah, I got practice. But I'm free Monday."

"That'll work. Swing by Monday after school, and we'll see if we can work out some memorization tricks to help you out."

Alex looked skeptical. "You really think I can learn this?"

Leonardo smiled. "Alex, I know you can."

"Well, OK." Alex got up to leave, gathering his books.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow." Leonardo watched him leave, still half-smiling to himself. It was nice to get a reminder why he went into teaching into the first place. Finally, he looked down at the blinking light on the phone. Someone had left a message. Leonardo picked up the phone and pressed the "mail" button. A smile played across his face as he recognized Michelangelo's voice, but within a second, his grip on the phone tightened, and he felt himself go cold all over.


	2. Chapter 2

A loud knocking broke the heavy silence, causing everybody to suddenly raise their heads. Leonardo stood up, walked across the room to the front door and opened it. Raphael didn't say anything - he simply stepped in and hugged his brother, tightly, for several seconds. Finally, Raphael let go and moved aside, and Leonardo gave a quick hug to Shawna, who had been standing behind Raphael.

"Thanks for coming," Leonardo whispered.

"Sure thing," Shawna said, almost as quietly.

Raphael and Shawna walked into Leonardo's apartment. His place was rather Spartan, and always impeccably neat. His living room was especially austere, with three small sofas and a chair in a square around a small glass coffee table. A few small end tables sat at the end of the sofas, helping to complete the square. The walls were adorned with a few old martial arts weapons, a couple of Splinter's paintings, and a old map of Japan. The room had no knick-knacks, no stereo, and (most tellingly) no TV. However, the mutants often chose Leonardo's apartment as their meeting place - possibly because of its neatness, or possibly just because of the lack of distractions.

The two newcomers hugged Michelangelo and Danielle, and then Donatello and Jamie. Slowly, they all sat down again, and once more, silence fell over the room.

Michelangelo finally spoke up, saying, "Uh, either of you need a drink or something?" Raphael and Shawna both shook their heads.

"Do they...know what happened?" asked Shawna hesitantly.

"Not yet," said Michelangelo dully. "The doctor said everything points to something simple, and something sudden. Maybe a stroke or heart attack. It looks like Sensei just...died in his sleep. They'll know for sure after the autopsy."

Leonardo shook his head. "I can't believe it."

There was another long pause, finally broken when Jamie stood up. "Um, I'm thinking maybe...me and the girls...should give you some time alone..."

"No," said Leonardo, quickly. "No, you don't have to go."

Shawna shook her head. "No, actually, I think Jamie's right. I think you four need to...be alone for a while." She stood up and turned to Danielle, who was also getting to her feet.

Michelangelo got up next to Danielle. "Where are you gonna go?"

"Um..." Danielle glanced at Jamie and Shawna. "The coffee shop on the corner?"

"That sounds good," agreed Jamie.

"Give me a buzz," said Danielle, hugging Michelangelo, then made her way to the door. The mutants watched their partners walk out, then once the door closed, they turned back to each other. Leonardo was the first to move, pushing his chair back from the table. He then moved to one side of a couch, and nodded to Donatello, who took up a place on the other side. Seeing what they were doing, Raphael and Michelangelo began moving the other two couches back, even if they weren't entirely sure why. Once they finished, Donatello sat on the floor, in formal style, at the coffee table, and the other two, understanding, joined him. Leonardo, however, didn't sit down with them, but headed out towards the kitchen. Michelangelo watched him go.

"He's getting tea," guessed Donatello, quietly. Michelangelo nodded in assent.

Raphael took a deep breath. "It's...so weird," he said.

"Weird?" repeated Donatello, confused. "You mean, Sensei dying?"

"Nnnooo, not exactly. I guess I knew that someday he'd...die. But it's so strange to...not be able to call him, or talk to him, or see him." Raphael grimaced. "I guess I never really came to grips with what Sensei dying actually would mean."

Michelangelo shook his head sadly. "I never got to say goodbye," he said quietly.

"You didn't need to," said Donatello firmly.

"How you figure?"

"I was thinking the same thing all day, Mike. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to say I loved him." He stopped, took an unsteady breath to calm himself, and then continued. "But then I realized, we didn't need to give him a big goodbye or anything. We told him we loved him all the time - in words, and in what we did. He didn't need a goodbye, I don't think."

"He's lucky," said Raphael unexpectedly. "Leaving without regrets."

"No," said Donatello, shaking his head. "Not lucky. Smart. It's because of...how Sensei is...was...that he was able to do that."

Leonardo emerged, carrying a tray with teacups and a metal teapot. He set it on the table, sat down along the fourth side of the table in formal style, and began pouring. Each of them took their cup, but waited until Leonardo had finished pouring. Once finished, Leonardo lifted his cup. "To Sensei," he said quietly.

"To Sensei," they all responded. They raised their cups, and then drank, but Donatello quickly put his down again when tears began falling down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes.

Michelangelo leaned over and put his hand on Donatello's shoulder. "Dude, it's OK."

Donatello shook his head. "Some things never change, I guess," he said, somewhat bitterly. "Look who's crying."

"All of us," said Raphael.

Surprised, Donatello pulled his hand away from his eyes. Sure enough, all three of his brothers were crying, too.

Michelangelo managed a small smile through his tears. "Remember what Splinter used to tell us when we were little? Crying is how you get the sadness out."

Leonardo put his teacup down. "I got a lot to get out," he managed to croak. He put his cup down and began crying in earnest.

The other three watched him, a bit uncomfortably. Donatello leaned towards him and said, "You OK?"

"Just...let me cry right now, OK? I can't do anything until I..." Leonardo got choked up, but Donatello patted his arm.

"That's OK, Leo. Don't worry about it."

To Donatello's surprise, Leonardo leaned over towards him and hugged him. Donatello put his arms around his brother and held him quietly, letting his own tears fall.

Michelangelo stole a glance at Raphael - were they supposed to hug, too? Raphael instead had lain back onto the carpet, tossed his arm across his eyes, and lay still. Michelangelo thought that looked like as good a position as any, so he leaned back and did the same, letting the tears come as they may.

It was about a minute later that Michelangelo sensed some movement, so he glanced up, rubbing his eyes. Leonardo had pulled away from Donatello, gotten up and headed towards his bedroom. He decided that was a sign that crying time was over, so he sat up and tried to pull himself together a bit. A few seconds later, as Raphael was sitting up, Leonardo came back with a stack of small towels, which he began distributing. Michelangelo found, to his surprise, that Leonardo had soaked the towels in warm water, and he immediately began rubbing his face clean.

"Sorry," said Leonardo a few seconds later, neatly folding his towel back up. "I kinda...felt like getting that out of the way."

"Good idea, actually," said Raphael.

Donatello admitted, "I do feel a lot better."

"And thanks," added Leonardo.

"What for?"

Leonardo put the towel in his lap, and remained looking down. "You know, I really envy you guys sometimes. I mean, I don't really mind being on my own most of the time, but sometimes...well, it's just good to hold someone you care about."

Michelangelo flung his towel over his shoulder. "Tell you what, Leo. Any time - day or night - you need a hug, gimme a call."

"Thanks." Leonardo smiled a bit. "Don't be surprised if I actually take you up on that." He poured himself some more tea, then said, "OK. Now that I can talk without utterly breaking down, I guess we've got some business to take care of."

"Business?" repeated Raphael.

"Yeah. Two main things: Sensei's will, and his memorial."

"Wow. Did Splinter even write a will?" wondered Donatello aloud.

"Yes," answered Leonardo.

"He did?" Raphael seemed surprised. "You know that for sure?"

"Yeah. He's got a copy at his place, and his lawyer has one."

Donatello, confused, said, "Wait - Splinter's got a lawyer?"

"Sure - Mr Tanaka. You never met him?"

"Not that I recall."

"He helped out when that guy was claiming Sensei stole his work."

The image of the short man in the black suit came flooding into Donatello's head. "Oh! Right, got it. I didn't know Sensei kept him on."

"He had him on retainer," explained Leonardo, collecting the towels. "I don't know if he ever actually used him for anything except to draft his will, though."

"So, what do we do?" asked Raphael. "Call him up and make an appointment for him to read it to us?"

Leonardo got to his feet. "You know, honestly, I don't know how this works." He walked into the kitchen and placed the towels on the counter.

"But at least we know who to call," pointed out Donatello. "And you can bet he'll know what to do."

Leonardo resumed his place at the table. "Right. I'll call him tomorrow morning." No one seemed to notice - or care - that Leonardo had once more taken on the role of the leader. He paused to sip his tea, then went on. "So that brings us to the memorial service."

"Are we supposed to organize that?" asked Michelangelo.

"I think that'll be our job, but I don't want to rush into that. We'll have to wait and find out what's in the will. Sensei may have given instructions on what sort of service he'd like."

"Hm," said Raphael, rubbing his chin. "I can't picture Sensei wanting a huge somber funeral."

"Me neither," agreed Leonardo. "But we'll have to see what it says."

"What about..." Michelangelo paused, not sure if he should go on. Finally he said, "What about...the body?"

Raphael looked hard. "What do you mean?"

"Well, is he...do we...have him buried? Cremated?"

"That'll probably be in the will, too," said Leonardo. Then, a bit uncomfortably, "If it isn't, I guess we'll decide then."

"But what about in the meantime?" asked Donatello, looking a bit sick.

"He's at the morgue," said Michelangelo.

Raphael looked off into the distance. "He'll probably want to be cremated."

Donatello murmured, "I hope not." The others turned to look at him, and he added, "I guess I...I just want to...see him. One more time. To say goodbye."

"No, you don't," said Michelangelo, with a small shudder.

Everyone turned to face Michelangelo. "Why? Did he look...awful?" asked Donatello hesitantly.

"No," said Michelangelo. "Not awful. He didn't look...horrible or anything. His eyes were closed, his mouth was closed, he looked... well, he looked peaceful enough."

There was a pause, broken by Raphael. "But what?"

Michelangelo poured himself more tea. "Do you remember when Mr Samuels died?"

"Yeah," said Raphael, and the other two nodded.

After taking a sip of tea, Michelangelo went on. "Well, I told Sensei that I was kinda freaked out having his body in the house. And Sensei told me not to worry about it. He said that Mr Samuels' body - _everybody's_ body - is just a possession, and once we die, we don't need it anymore. He told me, 'What is lying in Mr Samuels' room is not Mr Samuels, but simply one of his possessions.' And that sort of calmed me down."

Raphael said, "A Splinter specialty."

Michelangelo smiled a bit. "Yeah. But that's what was so...creepy about seeing Sensei's body. It was like..." His voice trailed off, and then he snapped his fingers and pointed at Donatello. "You remember when you showed me that video game prototype you had? Dungeon Deep or whatever the heck it was called?"

Donatello thought back. "Dungeon Denizens?"

"That's it."

"Yeah..."

"You remember how I felt about it?"

"Um, I remember you didn't like it..."

"You remember why?"

Donatello closed his eyes, then shook his head. "No. Sorry."

"I didn't like the people in it."

"Oh, right! You said they were creepy."

"They were creepy."

Raphael turned to Michelangelo. "How come?"

"It's weird. They were creepy because they were realistic - the most realistic people I've seen on a video game. I'd say they were about 99 accurate."

"And that creeped you out?"

Michelangelo nodded. "See, if they looked exactly like people, I would've probably thought it was really cool. Or if they were cartoon-like, I could've dealt with that, too. But instead, they were almost exactly like people, but just a bit off. And that weirded me out. It was like looking at real people, but that were messed up somehow." He took another sip of tea, then continued. "Seeing Splinter in that bed was sort of the same thing. He looked...like Splinter...but once he died, there was something missing. And that was enough to make him look...wrong." Michelangelo suddenly nodded, rather severely. "Sensei's right. The body isn't the person. That wasn't Splinter lying in that bed."

Donatello looked at Michelangelo for a bit, then gave him a quick smile. "I guess you're right." Turning back to Leonardo, he asked, "So is there anything we should do in advance of hearing the will? Anything we need to get ready?"

Leonardo considered. "Well, we may need to look into places where we can hold the memorial service."

Michelangelo said, uncertainly, "So...a church?"

Leonardo shook his head. "No. It doesn't have to be a religious place. Just somewhere where a group of people could assemble."

Raphael offered, "Like the youth center?"

"Hm." Leonardo thought about that. "That might work."

"Or how about the gallery?" suggested Michelangelo. "As long as the owners say it's OK and all."

"Hey, yeah," agreed Donatello.

"I think Splinter would like that," said Leonardo, still unable to put him in the past tense. "Let's say the gallery first, and the youth center second, in case the gallery doesn't work out." Raphael gave him a thumbs-up sign. "All right, then. I'll call the gallery tomorrow morning."

"Anything else?" asked Michelangelo.

Leonardo paused, then nodded. "Yeah. Start getting a list together of who you'd like to invite to the memorial."

"Invite? So we're going to...mail out something?" hazarded Raphael.

Leonardo half-shrugged. "No idea. We might. Or we could call, or e-mail. We'll see. But we may as well try to get a list together. Just give me a list of names."

"Got it," said Raphael, and the others nodded.

"OK. I guess that's it for now." Leonardo sipped his tea.

Michelangelo said, "Cool. Thanks, Leo."

"For what?"

"Y'know, for...being you. For taking charge."

"Mikey's right," agreed Raphael. "I was so caught up in...well, in how I felt about the whole thing, that I didn't even think that there was stuff that needed to get handled."

Leonardo ducked his head. He hadn't gotten any better at accepting praise over the years. "Well, actually, I'm the one who should thank you. As long as there's stuff to do..." He swallowed and nodded. "I think I'll be OK."

Michelangelo held his hand out, over the middle of the table. The rest of the mutants followed his lead, piling them on top of his. "We'll get through this," said Michelangelo confidently. "Sensei made us survivors."


	3. Chapter 3

The turtles filed out of the office building and into the street. Once there, Michelangelo turned to the others. "You all have time for coffee or something?"

Leonardo shrugged. "Sure. I'm done for the day."

"They can survive without me for a bit," said Raphael.

There was a pause as they all looked at Donatello, who finally smiled a bit. "All right, fine" he said. "Work can wait."

Michelangelo tilted his head towards the coffee shop on the corner. A minute or so later, they brought they drinks over and attempted to get comfortable in the tall chairs around the only empty table in the shop.

Raphael took a sip of his black coffee before starting the conversation. "So?"

"So, what?" asked Michelangelo in turn.

"So what'd you think?"

"I don't know. I didn't really know what to expect. I've never been to one of these things before."

Donatello smiled a bit. "His will was really...well, really Sensei, wasn't it?"

Michelangelo nodded. "Yeah, it was. It was almost like hearing him again. But I was...well, a bit surprised by some things."

"Like what?"

Michelangelo paused, so Raphael picked it up. "Well, I know what I thought was screwy. Sensei gave the suit of armor to me." Splinter didn't own much in the way of possessions, but one of his most cherished items was a full suit of traditional Japanese samurai armor. It had been given to him by his own Sensei before Splinter had left for America, and it had always occupied a place of honor in Splinter's home - be it in the sewers, Mr Samuel's house, or his apartment. "I thought that was going to you, Leo." Raphael couldn't quite make out Leonardo's expression, but he quietly added, "Look, I think maybe you should have it."

"No," said Leonardo quickly. "No, it's yours. Sensei...he wanted you to have it. And I'm sure he had a good reason for giving it to you."

Raphael smirked. "So you can't figure it out, either, huh?"

Leonardo stared at his brother, then smiled back. "OK, no. I can't. But that's OK."

Donatello added, "And he gave me his black and green kimono. I kinda assumed that was for you, as well."

Shrugging slightly and sighing, Leonardo said, "Honestly, yeah, I thought he'd give that to me. But like I said, Splinter probably had a good reason for giving us what he did."

Michelangelo, attempting to shift the conversation slightly, said, "It was nice, actually. He gave something to pretty much everybody."

"Yeah," agreed Donatello. "His landlady, the gallery...heck, even Rocky got something."

Raphael grinned. "It's kinda funny to think of Rocksteady reading _The Art of War_, though."

"Hey, you never know," said Michelangelo. "He's come a long way." Turning to Leonardo, he continued, "So what did that bit mean in your section, Leo?"

"What bit?"

"After he left you all his art supplies, it said, 'He will know what to do' or something like that."

Leonardo nodded. "Yeah. Something else I don't understand."

Donatello frowned. "You mean, you didn't understand that, either?"

"No, actually. I don't have any idea what to do with his art supplies. And I feel pretty stupid about it. Sensei seemed to think I'd know."

"No idea at all?" Raphael asked.

"Are you kidding? Since Mr Tanaka said that, I keep thinking of it. Now I've got too many ideas."

"Like what?"

"Like...donating them to the youth center? Getting the kids into art, maybe? But if he wanted to do that, why not do it direct? Why go through me?" Leonardo shook his head. "I'll meditate about it later."

"You know what I was most surprised by?" offered Raphael. "The money."

"You didn't think he'd leave us any?" Donatello asked.

"Oh, no, not that. The bequest for the youth center was really nice, and I wasn't too shocked to find out he wanted to split the rest between the four of us. But when Mr Tanaka said how much that added up to..."

Michelangelo nodded. "It was more than I was expecting."

"A lot more," argued Raphael. "Where'd Splinter get all that money?"

"Selling his paintings," said Leonardo, perhaps even a bit quicker to defend Splinter than normal. "You know how in demand they were getting at the gallery."

"Yeah," added Michelangelo. "People were asking months in advance if they could get a sneak peak at his new stuff."

Leonardo nodded. "Plus, it's not like Sensei had expensive tastes. Anything he didn't spend he just put in the bank."

"Probably something that was left over from when we were in the sewer," said Donatello thoughtfully. "Back when we weren't entirely sure when the next check would come. He was never one to spend money if he could help it." Donatello sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "It was really nice of Sensei to do split it four ways, but I can't take the money. I'll see if Mr Tanaka can just get them to split it three ways for you guys."

"What? No." Leonardo shook his head. "No, Don, I can't let you do that."

"Leo, I'm honored that Sensei gave me the kimono, the weapons, and all the other things. I'll treasure that stuff forever. But the money doesn't mean anything to me."

"Don..." Raphael started.

"No, Raph, forget it. You can't talk me out of it, either. My job pays me plenty. I don't need the extra cash."

Leonardo said, "Don, take the money. You and Jamie take a vacation or something."

"We'll take a vacation when we're good 'n' ready, Leo, and not before." Donatello smiled. "And when we do, we've already got the money for it. Look, after we finished school, we all went out and did what we wanted to after school, but you two..." He pointed at Leonardo and Raphael. "You two took the noble route. You did what...well, what I always thought I should be doing."

Raphael frowned. "What do you mean? I thought you loved your job."

"I do. Every single high-paying second of it. But you guys...bust your tails, get down in the trenches, make a difference, and you don't get paid anywhere near enough."

"I'm not suffering, Don," said Raphael, a bit miffed. "I can't speak for Leo or nothing, but I didn't get a job at the youth center 'cause I felt like I had to. I did it 'cause I wanted to."

"I know," said Donatello. "I didn't mean it like that. But if the money comes to me, I'll just toss it in the bank or something. You guys will probably at least get some use out of it. Please - take it."

Michelangelo nodded. "Don's right. Take the money. Heck, I'd give you my share, too, but..." He trailed off.

"But what?" asked Leonardo, concerned.

Donatello looked equally perturbed. "You're not in any trouble, are you?"

"Oh, no," Michelangelo said quickly. "Nothing like that. It's just..." He stopped and shrugged. "Well, I guess you'll find out soon enough. Me and Danielle were talking last week, and we kinda decided..." His voice trailed off.

Leonardo looked grim. "Is everything OK?"

Raphael's eyes got wide. "Better'n OK," he said. "You're gonna get married, aintcha?"

Michelangelo nodded, but didn't smile. "Well, that's pretty much what we decided. I was gonna talk it over with Sensei, y'know, on Tuesday." He sighed. "Danielle and I talked last night. We're gonna have to put that on hold for awhile, of course, and she's cool with that. Still, may as well start beefin' up the bank account, right?"

"Still. Congratulations," said Donatello.

"Michelangelo, Danielle's a great woman," said Leonardo, with a lot more sincerity than one would expect. "You're both very lucky you found each other."

"Hear, hear," said Raphael.

"Well, we haven't set a date or anything yet," said Michelangelo, smiling at Raphael, "but I may as well ask this now. Whenever it is, will you be my best man?"

"You bet!" Raphael grinned. "But don't think I haven't forgotten the bachelor party you threw for me. Just remember - payback's a bitch."

Michelangelo laughed a bit, then grew more serious. "It's not gonna be the same, though," he said, shaking his head. "I always assumed that Sensei would be there to preside over it." He nodded at Raphael. "He was so good at your wedding."

Raphael nodded. "Yeah. It's been almost four years, and I still have friends telling me how great it was." He smirked and added, "Makes it hard trying to make the marriage live up to the wedding."

Turning to Donatello, Michelangelo said, "He was great at your thing, too." He sighed. "I'm really going to miss that."

There was a pause before Donatello said, "You know who you should get to do your wedding?" Michelangelo looked over at him questioningly, and Donatello rolled his eyes over towards Leonardo.

Michelangelo thought for a second, then nodded. "Leo? Would you?"

"Me?" Leonardo looked completely baffled. "I...I'm honored, Mike, but...I'm not a minister."

Raphael smirked again. "That won't fly, FL. Splinter wasn't one until I asked him to do my wedding."

Leonardo considered again, longer this time. "You...you sure you want me?"

"Definitely," said Michelangelo. "And I know Danielle'd love to have you do it, too."

Ducking his head, Leonardo said, "Then yes. I'd be honored to do it."

"Cool. Thanks a lot, Leo."

Leonardo smiled a bit, then said, "Well, now that the will's been read, I guess we should move ahead and plan the memorial."

Raphael frowned, trying to remember. "Sensei didn't make any mention of one in the will, did he?"

"No. Just that he'd like to be cremated."

"So we're wide open then?"

"More or less." Leonardo looked at his brothers, each in turn. "What sort of memorial do you think Sensei would like?

Donatello looked thoughtful. "Well, he was always pretty matter-of-fact about death. He always just considered it a fact of life, as it were."

"Right," said Raphael. "So I don't think it should be this sad sort of thing."

"Well, I've been giving this a lot of thought these last few days," said Michelangelo, a bit hesitantly. "And I sort of have this...idea."

"Go on," urged Leonardo.

"Well, like you said, Raph, instead of it being this sad, solemn sort of thing, couldn't we make it sort of a...celebration of his life? I mean, Sensei touched so many people, and I think that's what we should focus on." He paused and looked over at Leonardo. "Did you find out if we can have it at the gallery?"

Leonardo nodded. "Esther said they'd love to have it there, as long as it was on a weekday – they have an exhibition on the weekends."

"OK, great. So we hang a bunch of Sensei's pictures up, have some tea and snacks, play those shakuhachi CDs he loved so much, and just invite people to come and chat."

"Hm," said Donatello.

"And then, at one point, anyone who wants to can get up and talk about how Sensei affected them."

Leonardo nodded. "I like that. Informal and friendly. Sensei might quibble about the speeches, but he always said that memorials are for the living, not the dead."

Raphael said, "Can we ask people...not to wear black?"

After a bit of consideration, Leonardo said, "I don't know if we can demand it, but we can suggest it on the invite."

"OK. I just think that'll help the atmosphere some."

"Hm, you might have a point." Leonardo went on, "It's traditional to tell people on the invite that, instead of flowers, they can make a donation to a charity. Is there a charity that we should suggest? One that Sensei would like?"

"The youth center?" said Michelangelo.

Raphael shook his head. "Nah, Sensei already took care of them in his will."

Leonardo mused for a bit. "What was something Sensei did that a charity does, too?"

Slapping the table, Donatello said, "I got it. Sensei was very good at bringing mutants into the world at large. Sort of bringing mutants and humans together."

Michelangelo picked up the idea. "Hey, yeah! And there's that foundation...what's it called?"

"The Brydge Foundation," said Donatello.

"Right. Their whole thing is trying to help mutants get a foothold into the human world."

Leonardo nodded. "Raph, what do you think?"

"I think we found our charity," Raphael said, smiling.

"Then let's go with that one." Leonardo opened his ubiquitous small notebook and jotted it down. "I'll give them a call this afternoon. I'll also call the gallery and pick a date for the memorial." He wrote those down, then looked up at Donatello. "Can you design the invites? With the information we've got?"

"I think so," said Donatello. "You'll have to tell me the date once you know it..."

"Right."

"But otherwise, yeah, I'll get on it. So we'll be mailing these out?"

"For everybody we've got an address for. We can call or e-mail anyone we don't. Speaking of which, you have your lists?" They all nodded. "Good. Can you do that as well, Don?"

Donatello hesitantly said, "Well, we're on this big project at work..."

Immediately Michelangelo said, "Don't sweat it, Don. I'll take care of the mailing." He held out his hand, and everybody handed their list to him. "Just let me know when the invite's ready."

"Got it."

"And I'll take care of calling and e-mailing everybody we don't have an address for," added Michelangelo.

"Thanks," said Leonardo. "I really appreciate that." He looked around the table. "Anything else?" Nobody spoke, and Raphael shook his head slightly. "All right, then. Thanks, and I'll let you know everything the second I know myself." All the turtles got up and left except Leonardo, who paused and looked down at his notebook. He grabbed his pen firmly and wrote something else. He exhaled loudly, then got up to follow his brothers out.


	4. Chapter 4

"Thanks so much for coming," said Donatello, for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night, to a couple whose names he had already almost forgot.

Michelangelo saw the couple move away from Donatello, and so began making his way through the crowd towards the door, where Donatello was stationed. Upon reaching him, Michelangelo smiled. "Dude, this is insane."

"No kidding." Donatello scanned the gallery, but being shy of five feet, he had no good way of counting the crowd. "There must be...what? A hundred fifty, two hundred people here?"

"Something like. Good thing I went overboard on making the snacks."

"Yeah, thanks for not listening when I said we didn't need that many." Donatello smiled across the room and returned a wave to someone he recognized but couldn't quite place. "How are we doing on drinks?"

"We're running low, but Leo ran out to get more soda. That should at least keep us going."

"Good," said Donatello. He looked at the crowd again. Quietly, he said, "It's weird, isn't it?"

"What is?"

Donatello looked back at Michelangelo, and gave him a rather quizzical smile. "Oh, nothing. Just the idea that we're having this big party for Splinter now that he isn't here to enjoy it."

A car horn interrupetd Michelangelo's reply. They glanced out the window and, seeing Leonardo's truck pulling up into the loading zone, headed outside.

Michelangelo couldn't help but smile every time he saw the pickup. A few years back, as Leonardo had begun getting work as a substitute teacher, he found himself in desperate need of a vehicle - the first of his brothers to do so. Being on the low end of the pay scale, he looked around for a cheap one, and ended up buying a beat-up pickup from one of Casey Jones' co-workers for a couple hundred bucks. Leonardo got plenty of ribbing from his brothers about the condition of his truck, but he always shrugged it off. As far as he was concerned, it got him to work and home, and that's all he really wanted out of it. The weekend before Leo's birthday last year, however, Donatello asked if he could borrow the truck to "get some things done". Leonardo assumed that meant Donatello was going to help a friend move or something, and since he didn't have anything scheduled that weekend, he had lent him the truck. But when his three brothers brought the truck back late Sunday night, he was absolutely stunned. His brothers had spent all weekend sprucing the truck up: overhauling the engine, replacing the glass, painting it dark blue (Leo's favorite color), putting in new carpet, installing a CD player. Michelangelo had added the final touch - a gun rack for the back window, into which he placed a new ornamental katana that Splinter had picked out for his birthday present. Leonardo still shook his head in wonder every time he got into the truck each morning.

Leonardo rolled down his window and jerked a thumb back towards the bed of the truck. "I'm gonna have to find a place to park. Can you two carry the soda in?"

Michelangelo and Donatello both nodded. "We're on it," added Michelangelo, as they headed towards the back.

A voice stopped them in their tracks. "Hey, you need some help wit dat stuff?"

Turning around, Michelangelo looked up at the half-smiling, seven-foot rhino. "Rocky!" he said. "Good to see you." The mutants clasped hands, and Michelangelo pulled him closer for a quick hug, which Rocky seemed a bit uncomfortable with.

Sensing Rocky's unease, Donatello just smiled at him. "Wow, Rocky, how long has it been?"

Rocky shrugged. "A couple years, mebbe."

Michelangelo said, "Well, we'll catch up in a bit. Could you help us carry some of this soda in?" He indicated the truck bed, which had several plastic bags filled with bottled soda. Rocky reached in and began grabbing them one by one, to which Michelangelo said, "Dude, you don't have to take all of them."

Rocky lifted them up and grinned. "No problem."

Returning the smile, Michelangelo said, "All right then. Let's see if you can forge you a path through this crowd." He and Donatello led Rocky back into the gallery, but they ended up not needing to blaze a trail - everybody quickly gave Rocky wide berth. They walked to the long tables set up in back, where Raphael was swapping out a full tray of hors d'oeurves for an empty one.

"All right, the cavalry's arrived," said Raphael. "How you doin', Rocky?"

Rocky bobbed his head in a rather aimless manner. "Pretty good. Can't complain." He began handing bags of soda to each of the turtles in turn, who removed the bottles and set them out in turn.

"So when do we start the speechin'?" asked Raphael.

Donatello poured himself a drink. "Well, Leonardo's parking the truck right now, but I figure once he's back, we can get started."

Raphael nodded at Michelangelo. "You still gonna lead the charge?"

"Well, I wish you wouldn't put it that way," said Michelangelo, smirking. "But yeah, I'll go first." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leonardo re-enter the gallery. He pointed to the stage with a questioning look, and Leonardo nodded fiercely. "OK, that's the sign I've been waiting for."

"Good luck, Mikey," said Donatello, and Raphael gave him a thumbs-up.

Michelangelo smiled at his brothers, then began making his way to the back of the gallery. He leapt up onto the makeshift stage, waved his arms and loudly said, "Excuse me? Everybody?" When the chatter died down, Michelangelo smiled and began speaking loudly. "First off, can everybody hear me OK?" There were scattered "yeahs" and lots of nodding heads, so he went on. "Great. For those who don't know me, or those who can't tell us apart, my name is Michelangelo. First off, I just want to...wow, just want to thank everybody for coming here tonight. We knew that Splinter...or Hamato Yoshi, if that's the name you knew him by...had touched a lot of lives over the years, but seeing this many people here - it's kind of overwhelming. Thanks for coming, everyone." Raphael started clapping, the other turtles joined in, and soon everybody was applauding.

When that died down, Michelangelo continued, "Since Splinter meant so much to so many people, we'd love it if you could...tell us about it. If you've got a story about Splinter you'd be willing to share, we'd love it if you'd come up here and tell us." He smiled a bit crookedly. "Like I said, I honestly wasn't expecting quite this many people, so we didn't even consider getting a microphone or anything. So you'll kinda have to talk loud. But please, don't let that keep you from coming up. We'd rather hear a quiet story than no story at all." Glancing down and taking a breath, Michelangelo added, "Since I'm up here and all, I'll get things started. Um, obviously Splinter made me who I am. At the most basic level, without his DNA, I wouldn't have mutated and become a sentient being. Had he not stuck around after the mutation, I would've probably starved or something. But that's just the basics - Splinter's influence goes way beyond that. He did an amazing job raising four kids all on his own. And best of all, I think, he knew how to let us be ourselves." Michelangelo crossed his arms and smiled a bit. "I don't know if my brothers even know this, but one of the scariest times of my life was back in high school, my senior year." Nodding at his brothers, he said, "My brother Donatello was already in college, and Leonardo was looking at which colleges he might want to go to. But I wasn't really sure I even wanted to go to college. I wanted to cook, and so I was thinking I wanted to go to culinary school. But I was terrified at telling Splinter that. I figured he went through all this work to get us into high school, and since my grades were pretty good, I thought he would expect me to go on to college."

Michelangelo looked rather serious as he continued. "The first few months of senior year were pretty tense. There was this big unanswered question I was completely avoiding, and finally, Splinter asked if I had given any thought to which college I wanted to attend. I sort of hemmed and hawed a bit, then I sort of blurted out that I didn't want to go to college. I wanted to go to culinary school." He paused and continued, a bit softer, which made those in the back strain to hear him. "I thought he'd be crushed, y'know, but he wasn't, really. He was just kind of surprised. He asked why I had never told him that, and I said because i was afraid he'd be disappointed in me. When he heard that, he smiled and told me, 'Nothing would disappoint me more than to learn that you did not do what you wished to do with your life, particularly had you done so solely because you thought you were doing what _I_ wanted.'" Michelangelo, saying Splinter's words, got a bit choked up, and he stopped to let the feeling subside. Finally, he smiled a bit and said, "The next day, we started looking at culinary schools for me. Now I'm sous-chef at Piastra, and I'm the happiest mutant in New York."

There was a smattering of laughter and applause, and Michelangelo grinned. "Thanks," he said. "Um, we don't really have any set way of doing this, so if anybody has a story to share, please come on up."

One by one, people came up to speak. Michelangelo knew most of the stories, but some were brand-new to him. As they went on, he grew more and more surprised how many people had been affected by Splinter, and, even more so, how many were willing to talk about it in front of such a large group of people. Friends, acquaintances, and total strangers - it seemed like everyone had something to say.

At last, after Rocky stepped away from the stage, there appeared to be a pause. Nobody else stepped up, so Michelangelo nodded towards the one person who had yet to speak. Leonardo slowly walked to the center of the stage and faced everybody.

"Hi," he began, in a voice that was a lot steadier than his brothers were expecting. "My name is Leonardo, and I'm the last of the seemingly unending parade of mutant turtles you'll hear tonight." There was a smattering of laughter, then Leonardo turned more serious. "I'll be honest with you. Splinter's death hit me really hard. I've cried more in the past couple weeks than I have all my life." He paused, then looked up with a small smile on his face. "But as the days went on, and I got a bit more used to Splinter being gone, the feeling of loss and of sadness has died down. Looking around at all of you who came tonight, and hearing your stories...how can I feel sad anymore? I feel grateful, because I got to know someone so special, and I got to know him extremely well. I feel happy, knowing that so many got to know the same special person I did. And I feel inspired. Because it was no accident that he touched so many lives. He did so because he wanted to, and because he tried to." Smiling, he held out his arm to indicate the entire gallery. "Come on, which of us here wouldn't love to have a memorial service like this?" Everyone chuckled at that, and Leonardo went on, "Well, I know what I have to do if I want one." He got down on one knee and said, "Sensei? Goodbye. And thank you. For everything."

* * *

Leonardo blinked a few times, then sat up in his futon. Something was nagging at him. Leonardo tried to calm his brain, and let the thought make its way to the front, but it didn't. He put his head back down on his pillow, but sleep was elusive. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something. Giving up on falling asleep for the time being, Leonardo pushed back the quilt, stood up, and put on his plain cotton kimono. He walked down the hall to his kitchen, pulled a glass down from the cabinet, and poured himself some water from the tap. He took a sip, then stood next to the sink, thinking. Finally, he shook his head, sighed, and headed back down the hall, but something made him stop short in front of the spare room.

He stared into the darkness for a bit, then leaned inside and flipped the light switch. Living as simply as he did, Leonardo didn't really have a need for this second, rather small bedroom, so he had converted it into a small dojo. Just barely large enough to get in his daily katana practice. He had criss-crossed white Christmas lights across the ceiling to provide light - sort of a throwback tohis days in the sewers. He hardly looked at his weapon racks, and instead stared at the stack of art supplies that he had been given, which he had piled into the corner. Slowly, he walked into the room and stood staring down at the pile. Paints, brushes, cleaners, and a few canvases already pre-stretched onto frames.

Leonardo thought back tothe quick conversation he had had with Mrs Johnson, Splinter's landlady, when he went to pick up his things. "Such a nice man," she had said. "Very quiet, very helpful. If only all tenants were so thoughtful."

He took another sip of water, then, suddenly, he reached down. He grabbed the cushion he normally sat on to meditate, pulled it closer to the stack, and sat down. He picked up a blank canvas and stared at it in the half-light for a minute, then leaned it up against the wall. Then, moving as if in a dream, he opened the paints and began mixing colors.

Leonardo had tried painting a couple of times in the past. Soon before he had entered high school, he had painted a little, and back when he and Splinter shared the Samuels house alone, he had given it another shot. But Leonardo was always very unhappy with his completed work. The paintings looked blocky and horribly childish next to Splinter's, and despite Splinter's encouragement, he had twice decided that he simply didn't have it in him to paint.

Leonardo wasn't thinking about those aborted attempts at art. He was hardly thinking of anything at all. As he watched the colors change on the pallette, his mind was almost blank, much like it was when he got deeply into his martial arts routines. Once he had mixed a few colors, he looked up at the canvas. Slowly, he selected a brush, dabbed some paint onto it, then applied it to the canvas. A small brush stroke here, a dot of color there. He wasn't even truly sure what he was painting. He just did it, slowly, calmly, almost absently.

Minutes passed, then hours. Still Leonardo painted. He didn't feel sleepy - he didn't feel anything at all, except the need to paint.

Finally, Leonardo paused, brush hovering in mid-air. Slowly, he put the brush down onto the pallet, and picked up the canvas by the edges. He stared at it, almost without recognition.It looked almost nothing like Splinter's work. Most of Splinter's paintings were dreamy and pleasant, if a bit other-worldly. The painting he held was harsher. Colder. Painful. The painting showed a sloped field, with a solitary figure a bit in the distance, its back turned. Tail, ears and kimono were being blown by the wind, and he appeared to be holding his walking stick tightly, as if the wind was biting into him.

For several minutes, Leonard sat staring at his painting. Finally, he put the painting down, stood up and looked out the window. The sun was coming up. Another day was beginning.


End file.
